Odysseus in the Serpent Maze

CHAPTER 27: WORTHY FOES

THE PIRATE VESSEL WAS as poorly guarded as Odysseus had suspected. The men left on board were even drunker than the men ashore, and were easily overpowered. Before they knew what was happening, the pirates were heaved over the side of the boat, where they floundered about in the water until finally reaching shore.

Odysseus left Idomeneus on the dock and jumped aboard the ship with the last of his men. As Helen and Penelope settled themselves in the stern, the sailors slid the oars quickly into the water.

Tros saw to the raising of the stone anchor, and the old craftsman Praxios—delighted to be gone from the city—did a little dance on deck.

As the boat began to move away from the dock, the Ithacans raised a happy cheer. Odysseus looked back and saw that Idomeneus’ eyes were fixed on him.

I understand, he thought. Bracing a foot against the stern, with the last ounce of strength he could muster, he flung the silver-studded sword into the air. It landed with a clang at Idomeneus’ feet.

The prince picked up the sword and raised it in salute.

“You’re a worthy foe, Ithacan prince,” he called out. “The best of foes may one day be the best of allies.”

Recalling that for all his pride, Idomeneus had behaved with honour towards Helen, Odysseus cried out, “May the gods keep you safe till that time, Cretan prince. Now that your monster is dead, perhaps the Long Island will be a better place for visitors.”

“Helen,” Idomeneus called, his voice fading in the distance, “I promise I’ll see you again, however long it takes.”

Odysseus glanced over at the girls. Eyes shut, her head settled on Penelope’s shoulder, Helen looked fast asleep. But she was smiling.

The oarsmen rowed well, and soon the boat cleared the harbour rocks and was skimming along.

“Raise the sail!” Tros cried, and when the men had got the sail up, it bellied out at once with a strong wind from the south.

“The gods are favouring us at last,” the old captain said with gruff satisfaction.

“Those who help themselves, the gods favour,” said Odysseus. He started to smile, then raised a hand to his raw face. “Ouch!”

“Best not say that too loudly, lest the gods hear.” Penelope was suddenly at his shoulder. She handed him back the golden key. “And let me tend to those wounds. I’m sure the pirates will have a goodly store of medicines.”

They searched through the ship’s hold and found the fir-wood box that Autolycus had been sending back to Laertes, the one that had kept the boys afloat for so long.

Mentor laughed. “Your father will be pleased to see that!”

Penelope opened the lid, and Mentor let out a low whistle. The box was filled to the brim with gold and jewels.

“This must be the treasure Deucalion paid to buy old Silenus from the raiders,” Odysseus said, running his fingers through the loot.

“What does that stinking satyr have to do with anything?” asked Mentor.

“Oh, that’s right—you don’t know about that,” said Odysseus. “Well, better sit down, Mentor, for I’ve quite a tale to tell you.”

“What sort of tale?” Mentor asked suspiciously.

“A true one,” Penelope said. “A tale about a monster, a maiden, and a hero.”